Pheonix Street
by quietbang
Summary: In which there is activism, murder, snark, and quite a lot of swearing. Written for a prompt on the meme requestnig cop!Erik and college student!Charles
1. Chapter 1

_17:51, 01-12-2012. Official Transcript, NYDOEM  
>-click-<br>Hello, Office of Emergency Management. Please state your emergency._

_She's dead. Oh God, she's dead. There's- Oh, God._

_Sir? Sir, please try and stay calm. Can you tell me where you are?_

_She's really dead, oh God, so much blood-  
>Sir. Sir, please, can you tell me where you are?<br>Um. Yeah. Um. 54th and Pheonix. 227a. She was just a girl, oh my God, she's-  
>Sir, help is on the way. Please stay on the line until I tell you to hang up, alright?<br>God- Um, yes, I mean, yes, I can do that.  
>Are you in need of medical attention?<br>-silence-  
>Sir? Are you hurt?<em>

_-silence-  
><em>

_Reports are coming in of a massive psychic disturbance in the area surrounding 54th and Pheonix, with hundreds believed to be affected. No casualties have been reported. _

_Police believe tonight's psychic disturbance to be the result of an inappropriately inhibited telepath-_

_  
><em>A body has been found on 54th and Pheonix, believed to belong to 18 year old Jubilation Lee, a registered mutant. Police are thus far not willing to rule out the possibility of homicide.<em>

_  
><em>The Mutant Protection League has released a statement regarding the believed murder of Jubilation Lee. The body of Ms. Lee, an 18 year old student at Columbia, was found this morning at the headquarters of the Columbia University Human-Mutant Alliance. Eyewitness accounts say that Ms Lee had apparently sustained massive cerebral trauma from a suspected telepathic attack. Police have refused to comment.<em>

_  
><em>Mourning in the mutant quarter tonight with police confirmation that the New York Mutant community has been victim of yet another mutation-based crime. Ms Lee, an 18 year old biology student, was found dead this morning at the headquarters of the much-maligned Columbia University Mutant-Alliance by the club's president and co-founder, 22 year old activist Charles <em>_Xavier. Xavier has been taken in for questioning; no word yet on whether he is considered a suspect._

_  
><em>It'll be a tough case for the newly formed NYPD Mutant Division, created on order from Mayor Rogers after the sharp rise in hate crimes against mutants in this city since the passing of Congress' controversial Mutant Registration Act. The Act is hardly the first attempt made by the federal government at controlling the so-called mutant menace since their discovery in the late 1960s, but it is certainly the most far reaching. It has been criticised by activists on both sides of the aisle as being alternately either a violation of human rights not seen on American soil since the internment of Japanese-Americans during the Second World War, or as awarding too many so-called 'mutant rights'. More on this after the break...<em>

_  
><em>..And join us at eleven, when we'll be speaking with Professor Sebastian Shaw, a professor of medicine at Columbia University and author of several well-received – if controversial- books on the mutant threat and the perils of mainstreamed education. Professor Shaw will be giving us his take on the rationale behind the recent spree of mutant-based hate crimes.<em>

_  
><em>-riiing-<em>

_-riing-_

_-riing-_

_-click-_

_Hello?_

_Erik?_

_What?_

_Where the fuck have you been?_

_Asleep, Moira. It's my day off, remember?_

_Not anymore, it's not. Have you been watching the news?_

_No, I've been _sleeping_. What is it?_

_Get your ass down to the station- we've got another probable hate crime, and if you don't get here soon, Fury's gonna give it to Stryker._

_Fuck. ...Alright. Be there in ten._

_You're gonna want to grab some coffee. This is going to be a long one._

Great_. See you._

_-click-_

William Stryker_  
>"It wasn't a telepathic attack."<em>

Stryker snorted. "Oh? And how would you know that, boy? Something you're not telling us?"

He would not have thought it possible, but Xavier went even paler, the guilty fucker.  
>"It would have left a trace," he says quietly, eyes blank. "I would have felt it. Someone wants you to <em>think<em> it was a telepath."

"See, the funny thing about that, boy, is that our best telepaths are on the case, and they say it'll take them at least a few mroe hours to pick anything up."

The boy blinked. "Guess you need better telepaths, then."

"Hmph." He glances down at the file in his hand. "Says here you missed your last appointment for chip adjustment."

"I rescheduled. I was proctoring an exam."

"Mm. It also says you've got quite the little record, here."

The boy doesn't say anything.

"Including... ooh, looky here- an accusation of aggravated assault. Would you call yourself a _violent_ person, Xavier?"

"I was acquitted and a juvenile. You can't have that."

"And yet, I do... funny how that works. Oh, and don't try to read my mind, you mutie freak- there are telepathic inhibitors built into the walls."

"Look. A girl is _dead_. She was a friend of mine, and I want to help you, but I can't if you don't let me. So tell me the truth, detective- do I need a lawyer?"

"Depends on how _guilty_ you feel."

The boy purses his lips, and clenched his hands in his lap. "I think I would like my phone call now, please."

The door burst open. _Great_.

"We're in the middle of an interrogation, here-" he starts hotly, until he see's who it is.

Great. Rogers' fucking Wonder Twins, here to save the day.

Lehnsherr doesn't even spare him a glance, his eyes moving right over him and onto the kid.

"You're off the case, Stryker," he snaps. "Fury's orders."

Stryker flushed hotly. "This ain't your-" he begins.

Lehnsherr cuts him off with an eye roll. "Frost just reported in. It wasn't a telepathic attack. Which means _someone_ wanted to make it look like it was- someone human, probably, and the trace strong emotions found suggest a hate crime. It's under my division. You're off the case."

_  
><em>Moira<em>  
>Erik looks like hell. Which made sense, because that was how Moira <em>felt<em>; this was the sixth mutant-based hate crime this month.  
>18. 18 years old, dead from cranial trauma designed to look like a telepathic attack. Body found by one of the most powerful telepaths in the state. Fuck.<p>

She needs a vacation. Somewhere warm, where the sun beats down and the air smells like salt andshe can drink mai-tais and _sleep_.

She's running on empty, and so is Erik, and she can't help but wonder if they might have solved these cases sooner otherwise, if they were just too exhausted, too angry, to see it all. If they were missing things.

They can't screw this up. There are too many factions, in the police and outside, waiting for them to fall, watching their every move with baited breath.  
>Fuck them. A girl is dead, and they're going to do their fucking jobs.<p>

She accepts the proffered coffee with a wordless murmur of thanks. It has taken them years to get to this point, the point where they work better together than any other team in major crimes, to the point where they were made into the bloody poster child for human-mutant cooperation, an irony if there ever was one, when Moira thinks back to some Erik's more – intense – rhetoric in the first months of their cooperation.

Erik really does look awful. Normally- well, normally he's got one of those _faces_, the kind that looks good with a bit of scruff, but now he looks_old_, tired and old and utterly sick of this bullshit. Moira doesn't blame him

"We got any witnesses?" Over the years, Erik has perfected the art of speaking seemingly while drinking. Moira suspected it may be a particularly useless secondary mutation. Or maybe a tertiary one- the junior officers at the station would probably tell you that Erik's secondary mutation was being really fucking scary.

"Just the one who called it in- Charles Xavier, registered telepath, second-"

"-I know who he is."

"You do?"

Erik looks at her like she is from another planet. "Of course I do. He was in the _Post_ last week- he runs that website, the Coalition for Genetic Diversity?"

"Oh, sorry, I should have realised you'd be up on your shitty activist blogs. I swear, sometimes I wonder if you missed your calling as a poli sci student-"

"Isn't that part of our _job_? And it's not bad, as far as college kid stuff goes. Some of it's pretty juvenile, but he's got a good head on his shoulders. He got a record?"

"Nothing major- a few offences for underage drinking, some sealed juvenile stuff, nothing that indicates a propensity for violence."

"Time of death?"

"8:15 AM, roughly five minutes before Xavier called it in. He probably witnessed the whole thing."  
>Erik nods. "Let's go, then."<p>

_  
><em>Erik<em>

Fucking Stryker. The kid looks like hell- white-faced and swaying with exhaustion, hands clenched tightly around the arms of his wheelchair, and _fuck, is that blood on his face?_

"Charles Xavier?"

"Yes?" The kid looks at him, but his eyes are blank. Clearly in shock. Erik softens his tone.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

The kid nods jerkily, but says nothing. Then- "Am I a suspect?"

Erik looks at him. He is silent for a long moment. Then- "No. No you're not. Tell me what you know."

The boy takes a deep breath, and begins.


	2. Chapter 2

_Erik_.  
>The boy rubbed his eyes blearily. "Um, right, so- God, I'm sorry, I'm just not sure where to begin- I. It's all a little hazy."<p>

Moira smiles sympathetically. "Start at the beginning. How did you know the victim?"

"Jubilee? I've only know her for a few months- she's a freshman. Or- was, I guess. She came out to one of our outreach days and just kinda... stuck around. Nice kid. Friendly. Eager, too- she came earlier to the meetings than me, half the time, so we gave her a, a job, sort of- she opened up the centre every morning and got things started, did some administrative trivia, that sort of thing. I don't like leaving anyone alone at headquarters, especially now, but she seemed responsible enough, so I didn't see any harm. I tried to only leave her alone for a few minutes..."

"The Centre being where you found the victim? 221A 54th and Pheonix? "

"Yeah. Um, the lease isn't in my name, but, yes, it's the headquarters of the Mutant-Human Alliance."

"That's where you met, then."

"Yes."

"Why not leave her alone? Didn't you trust her?"

The boy smiles slightly. "Why, Officer, I don't know if you've heard, but we're _mutants_/"

His tone of mock horror almost makes Erik smile. Almost.

"And?"

"_And_ a lot of people don't take too kindly to that. We've had some threats, some grafitti, that sort of thing- I don't want to take risks. I- I- I never wanted anyone to get hurt, you know?"

His voice breaks a little on the last word.

Erik clears his throat. "The threats. They weren't in your file."

Xavier attempts a watery smile. "Funny, that. I called it in every time."

Something tightens in Erik's chest. "Has anyone been hurt before? In the organization, I mean?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "Well, yes, but not- never mind. You wouldn't understand."

Erik twists his finger, and the metal in the boy's chair begins to vibrate. "Try me."

His eyes widen. He lets out a soft intake of breath, his lips parting in a way that- _is not remotely attractive, Lehnsherr, he's 22 and a fucking witness, get a hold of yourself._ God, he needed to get laid.

"You're the new division. Hell, I'm sorry, I should have-"

"-It's alright," Moira says, "You're having a pretty rough morning yourself."

The boy slumps against his chair. "Yes, yes I am. Not as bad as Jubilee, though..." he trails off, and his eyes go blank. He gets a hold of himself. "Anyway, yes. We've had some break-ins, some bashings... nothing out of the ordinary."

"Why not move to the mutant quarter?"

"Pardon me, Detective, but I believe that would rather be missing the _point_, wouldn't it?"

Maybe, but it might have avoided this morning for a little longer, Erik thinks, and is foolishly grateful for the telepathic inhibitors built into the interrogation room.

"Sorry," Xavier is saying again. "I didn't mean to snap. I'm- well, anyway. I don't know how much help I can be- I didn't see anyone."

He hesitated, white teeth biting down against cherry red- _fuck's sake, Lehnsherr, stop it._

"But?" Moira prompts.

"I- I felt the whole thing. I felt her die. It was- slow."

Jesus. Erik blinks, trying to take in the horror of that statement. "Did you get anything about the attacker?"

He sighs. "I- I don't know. It was- hazy, like there was something blocking me. Just- flashes, and emotions, no thoughts, nothing- if I felt them again, could recognise them, but for now- I don't know what to tell you. She was too upset- too much pain for me to get a read on anything else, that- um, when we're in pain, we're not thinking clearly, and the- the attacker went for her face, but they wanted her alive, so- well, they made it hurt, and- and that was all I could get. It was... Jubilee knew them, though, I can tell you that much."

Erik tried to hide his disappointment. "Anything else?"

"They- they weren't _angry_. They were- determined, but, it was cold somehow. Detached, almost like-"

"Like?" Erik prompted. Fuck, he hated telepathic evidence.

"Like they were waiting for something. For orders, maybe."

Erik sighed. "But you think that if you saw them, you would recognise them?"

"If I felt them, yes. I believe I could."

Well, this hasn't been a total waste, then.

"What about family?" Moira asked. "Did she have any she was close to?"

Xavier rubbed his eyes. "Like I said, I didn't know her that well- your best bet would be to talk to Piotr Rasputin or Katherine Pryde. They should be able to help you. I'm sorry, detectives. I really am."

Erik huffed. "Don't worry about it. You've been very useful." he hands him his card. "Give me a call if you can think of anything else. Uh-" he glanced at the chair. "-Do you need to call someone to come pick you up?"

"I'll be fine, thank you." he smiled briefly. "I need to get to campus, anyway. There are people- well, they shouldn't hear this from the news, if they haven't already. I'm free to go, then?"

Erik nodded. "Keep that card," he ordered gruffly.

The boy smiles slightly. "I will," he promises. He manoeuvres out from beneath the table, and Erik sees all of him for the first time. Small and slender, the slimness of his legs not quite covered by the baggy corduroy trousers, and a white t -shirt emblazoned with a stylised image of a double helix of DNA in bright, rainbow colours, recognisable to anyone who followed the news as the symbol for the Coalition for Genetic Diversity.

It's long sleeves were streaked with rust brown, as was the neck, which bore a fine net of pinkish-grey  
>stains: Erik only hoped the kid made it home before realising it. He let out a sigh when he saw that he hadn't moved, and was instead staring at Erik with too-bright eyes.<p>

"Go," Erik ordered roughly. "Move it. You have our number."

"Shouldn't I- aren't I in trouble?"

"Why? What did you do?"

"My chip, I mean- I really did _mean_ to reschedule, I've just been so damnably busy lately-"

"-Do you _want_ your inhibitor increased?" The comment was mostly sarcastic on his part, but he was genuinely curious: some of them did, the telepaths and empaths especially. Anything to subdue the buzz of a perverse world.

"What? No! God, no, I just-"

"Go. It's not my department, I don't give a fuck."

The boy chewed on his lip, and he really had no right to have lips like that and be 22 and have witnessed a murder. If anyone was going to _look like that_ in front of Erik, they really ought to be at least 35 and- he doesn't know- something _respectable_, not a fucking witness.

"I- I wouldn't want to get you in trouble."

Erik rolls his eyes. "I didn't see anything. Stryker neglected to inform me that you'd been inappropriately inhibited- which is true, by the way, but only because he was distracted by his hard-on for beating on another _mutie_- so how was I to know that you weren't to leave yet? Now, shoo."

He reached over to push the chair towards the door, then thought better of it. "Get out."

The boy did as he was told.  
>-<p>

Charles blinked in the late-afternoon sunlight, bright and cold, and quietly fell to pieces. He was shaking, he knew that, and fields of grey danced in front of his eyes- he was in no state to go to campus today.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

_-beep-_

_-Hello?_

_Charles? God, Charles where have you been? Everyone's terrified, they're saying Jubilee is-_

_-They're telling the truth. I just left the police station._

_What? Why?_

_I'm the one who found her. Jubilee. It was at headquarters._

_That's what they were saying, but no-one knew for sure- God, Charles, are you alright?_

_Not really, no._

_Alright. -swallow- Alright. Where are you? Do you want me to send someone to come get you?_

_What? No, no, I'll be fine, I'll just-_

_Where are you?_

_Hm?_

_Where are you?_

_Oh, uh, the precinct on 54th and Winchester. I can take the bus, Raven-_

_Like fuck you can. I'm gonna send Azazel- you stay where you are._

_Yeah, yeah._

_Oh, and pick up some burritos on your way._

_What?_

_Grief makes people hungry. See, I learned **something** from your mother._

_I shudder to think. Burritos? Really?_

_Yeah, they're Kitty's favourite. Have you spoken to her yet?_

_...No? I've been in the station since 8 in the morning. I can't say that I'm looking forward to that, either._

_Do you want me to do it?_

_-sigh-_

_Charles?_

_Yeah. Yeah, I do. I'll call round their end later, but right now-_

_Kay. Don't forget the memorial MSG._

_...Raven? Are you okay?_

_-silence-_

_No, but there's too much to do right now. I can be upset later, alright?_

_Fair enough._

_Bye._

_Take care.  
>-beep-<em>

14:23, 01-12-12_ **In the Name of Jubilee**, by Charles Xavier. Retrieved from /_

By now you have all heard of the tragic death of Jubilation Lee, better known to many of us as Jubilee. I know I speak for all of us here when I say that our thoughts and prayers are with her family at this tragic time.

Jubilee is, of course, only one in a long line of casualties of hate and fear. That we live in a world where young people, in the prime of their life, may be cut down so brutally by hatred is something that we, as mutants and as humans, have come to accept. It is our lot in life, it seems sometimes, to be feared, to be misunderstood, and to be feared and misunderstood is to be hated.

This is appalling. This apathy dishonours the memories, not only of Jubilee, but of Sarah Paxton, of Jeremy Hardy, of Lucia Montez, of James Sullivan, and of the hundreds and thousands of others who have given their lives freely to a fearful world. No longer.

There are those who would argue that what we do here is pointless. Those that say that to ally with the humans is to lose the battle before it begins. There are those who would- and have- compared me to a collaborationist with Vichy, or a Jewish Kapo. These comparisons- aside, of course, from being offensive in that they diminish the true nature of those very real events- are baseless.

Time and time again, our species has shown what it does to those whom we fear. The reaction of the dominant culture when they feel their way of life is being threatened has always been violence. It would be strange if it was different when dealing with mutants.

And yet, there are those in our community whose destructive power is great. No more dangerous, of course, than a non-mutant with a gun, but dangerous none the less- what do you suppose the response would be if we fought back violently? Well, friends, we need only look at the response to similar movements throughout history- the civil rights movement, the Silent Revolution, the Indian Revolution- to see that fighting fire with fire will get us nowhere. _Peace always wins out._ One way or another, over time, love will always be louder than hate. Hope will always be more powerful than fear. Optimism will always be stronger than despair.

It is not an easy path, the one we have chosen. It is a road paved with heartache, with pain and bloodshed and prejudice, but we _can rise above it_. **We have the power to be the better people.**

And yet I have committed a grievous sin here, in this very blog post. As so many have recently, I have made a personal tragedy into an ideological one.

Jubilation Lee was not a poster child for a cause. Her death is not a blow to the movement- except insomuch as it is- as it is a _personal_ tragedy to her friends and her family.

The mutant community in this city is rather close knit. You would be hard pressed to find anyone who does not remember Ms Lee and her fireworks, her love of music, her passion for all things colourful. She was well liked- as a student, as an employee, as a friend and as a partner. I have spoken to many people today who mourn Ms Lee, whether they knew her well or not, loved her or not, and have yet to hear a word said against her. She was 18, on the cusp of a bright future, and it was brutally taken away from her well before her time.

Tonight, we gather in Santiano Park to celebrate her life; to mourn, to grieve, but also to hope, and to _promise_ that her death will not go unnoticed or unmentioned by history, that her sacrifice will not be in vain, and to remember that, working together, humans and mutants alike, we can stop this from happening again.  
>We meet at 7:30 by the Huguenot Monument.<br>Keep safe, keep the faith. I hope to see you tonight.  
>Rest in peace, Jubillee. I hope you're sparkling now.<p>


End file.
